A Lady, a Knight, and an Adventure
by thisdiva99
Summary: Another adventure in the lives of our favorite Librarians. This story focuses on Jenkins and Cassandra... will romantic feelings ensue?
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

"Yes, yes fine...just….let me go!"

Jenkins violently shrugged a rough hand from his tweed jacket as he was unceremoniously shoved into a jail cell of some kind. The cellars of the estate in Glasgow were cold, dank, and completely appropriate for the situation he'd gotten himself into. While he prided himself as a Caretaker rooted firmly in the Library, he had ventured out to find the young Librarians gone missing: Mr. Jake Stone and Miss Cassandra Cillian, respectively. When Mr. Stone had failed to return from a simple fact-finding mission in Scotland, Miss Cillian had jumped at the chance for some adventure. Then she hadn't returned in a day's time, and Jenkins felt compelled to follow, sure that he would sort the situation in a matter of hours. The breadcrumbs they'd left led him to Glasgow. A poorly-timed punch had set him off-balance and into the hands of a small army of henchmen, and now he found himself in a dungeon cell. He huffed and sat on a small cot in the corner, determined to think himself a way out of the situation.

"Je...Mr. Jenkins?...is that you?"

A small voice cried out softly, and he swung toward it.

"Miss Cillian?"

"Yes….I….I can't see where you are?"

Jenkins frowned as he saw the redhead curled in on herself in the opposite corner of the room. She was facing the wall, shoes gone. He rushed the few feet over to her and crouched down.

"Are you hurt, Miss Cillian? What's happened here?"

"I don't really know. I couldn't find Jake at the museum he'd originally said he would go to, but I found a ripped blueprint of this castle and came to find him. When I snuck in through the kitchens...I think someone hit me from behind. I passed out. I'm sorry."

"You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. What did you find out about this place? How do you feel now?" He turned her slowly to face him and was horrified to see her eyes completely unfocused. She seemed to be searching for something to look at.

"Well, my head feels like they never took the tumor out. It hurts ALOT…..and I can't see you. My eyes are all blurry. Just black and grey blobs everywhere. You're sitting right beside me, aren't you?" Her voice got smaller, and he could feel her get more and more afraid. He put a hand on each elbow and brought them both standing, murmuring his help.

"There is a cot over here, Miss Cillian, about 10 feet in front of us. Let me walk you over to it, and we'll set you right. I'm sure the blow to your head has just hurt you temporarily. You'll be fine soon." He wished he was as confident as his tone of voice indicated.

"Thank you, Mr. Jenkins. I'm sure you're right."

They made their way across the cell and he gently sat her on the cot, looking around for any water source. He pulled his pocket handkerchief, ready to soak it to place to her head. Finally he located a bottle of water, unopened, next to where Cassandra had been sitting on the floor. What in God's name was a bottle of clean water doing in a dungeon? He put the question aside long enough to douse the cloth and press it to the lump forming under the young woman's hair.

"Let's start with your feeling a little better, and then we'll find a way back to the Library. You'll need a bit more medical attention once we're home."

"Ok, well...ok. So we need to figure out what this place is. I know we are approximately 0.73 kilometers from the border of Glasgow. The museum in Glasgow where I went to find Jake had a large archive of castle plans dating back to Norse histories. I found one blueprint on the floor near a table and chairs that were knocked over. I figured Jake got in another fistfight, so I walked here to see if I could find him. I'm sorry, Jenkins, but I think I might be sick."

She leaned to the side of the cot, and Jenkins quickly responded, sliding a nearby bucket under her. He laid one hand on her back and slid the other under her hair, holding it gingerly as she retched. Growing concern pooled in his stomach as he thought through the signs of concussion. His handkerchief lay limply on the cot, forgotten. There was a corner of his brain that felt this was all quite intimate; the poor girl probably didn't want an ancient knight helping her be sick, but duty called. She was a fallen comrade, and he had to help. After she stopped throwing up, she sat up and gave a whimpering laugh:

"Not my idea of a great Thursday...sorry, Jenkins."

"You seem to be doing a lot of apologizing when you needn't, Cassandra. Please, tell me how you're feeling now."

"My head and eyes are all fuzzy. Maybe I could lie down?"

"Not a good idea for now. If you have a severe concussion, sleeping would be a bad way to help it. Does it hurt too much to talk more? Can you tell me anything else?"

"The only other thing I thought of was that if there is more than one cell here, Jake might be in it?"

"A good thought indeed, Miss Cillian. You continue to apply pressure to your head with the handkerchief while I see what I can see."

Jenkins pulled himself to full height and walked purposefully to the barred door. He thought for a moment that a cell this old might have a lock for easy picking. Then he saw the brand-new dead bolt and reinforced hinges. Lock-picking would be fruitless, and the small black protuberance from the ceiling at the door would indicate that they were being observed. The mixture of old castle and new technology was baffling. Instead of belaboring the thought, he called out in his strongest voice "Jake Stone! Are you here? Please respond if you can!"

Nothing. Not even a pin drop.

He called out again, 5 or 6 times, and there was never a response. In a place as big as this, he could be anywhere, completely out of earshot, but there was no way he was within this level.

"Well, Miss Cillian, we seem to be here alone for now. I did notice a camera at the entrance to this cell. It's certain we're being watched. How are your eyes?"

"A little better, I think. You're a very tall but distinct blob now."

"Marked improvement."

Cassandra swayed a bit as she craned her neck to look up at him. He put his hand on her shoulder:

"Please, don't try to see anything now. Just stay seated and alert as you can. I'm going to continue to look around our current dwelling. Has anyone said anything to you? Any announcements made via loudspeaker?"

"No… I think I was dreaming at one point when I was unconscious. I saw a lab or something, with lots of people moving around. But no one said anything to me. What do you think, Jenkins?"

"I think a great many things, but for now, please continue to sip that water. Not too much though, we don't want you to be sick again."

"Noooooo, I agree. No more of that!"

As she screwed the cap back on the bottle, there was movement outside the cell. A number of men came to the door while one unlocked it. They were all silent. Jenkins began to shout,

"Who are you, where are we, and what are you doing with us?"

The men ignored him, two sets of hands restraining him against a wall as he fought to free himself. Two more men grabbed Cassandra by the arms and hauled her into the hallway. She screamed as Jenkins continued to yell and ask questions. Finally, she was gone, with nothing but a damp handkerchief and a bottle of water to mark her place on the cot.

"Excellent, excellent…. Miss Cillian, welcome!"

A polite and petite woman excitedly addressed Cassandra as she was dropped to the floor of a large room on the 3rd floor of the castle. She had whimpered and cried out, but counted every stair while she was dragged from Jenkins' side to this new location. Jake was nowhere to be seen, but she also kept a careful eye for signs of him along the route.

"Gentlemen, pick her up, pick her up! She is a most welcome participant in today's events. Please do not treat her so!"

"Lady, what are you talking about?" Cassandra squeaked.

"Miss Cillian, welcome to the new headquarters of the Fellowship. We are so lucky to have you here…. With your help, we can bring about a new age!"

"A new age of what exactly?"

"Oh all in good time. Gentlemen, please help her onto the table."

"Nope, not happening. No table, no events, no welcome, no nothing. Nada, you got me?" Cassandra channeled her best Jake Stone as she furiously refused to move. It still didn't take long for a few men to strap her to the lab table.

"Thank you, men. Now, Miss Cillian, bear with me as I prepare our first cocktail!"

"Thanks, but I don't drink."

"No, an injectable cocktail, my dear! This will be the first of a number of tinctures and compounds to introduce into your system. With any luck, we'll get to the bottom of your new magic in no time."

"My what? No! What the hell are you talking about?! I still don't know what this is!" Cassandra did her best to kick and fight off the restraints, but they held fast while the perky and mad scientist at her elbow filled a syringe with blue fluid.

"Here we go now, down the proverbial hatch!" The woman stabbed a syringe into Cassandra's neck, and she faded.

Jenkins paced and tried to think of any way out while worrying obsessively about Cassandra. She'd screamed the entire time they'd dragged her away; he didn't even know who "they" were. He pawed quickly through his pants and coat pockets, hoping for something left there that might help him to get out and get to her. Apparently he'd been particularly tidy that morning, and took nothing except the small rucksack now in the hands of the opposition. The entire cell in which he stood was bare except for a partially-consumed bottle of water, his own handkerchief on a cot, the bucket Cassandra had been ill in, and himself. He was truly on his own.

Footsteps neared the cell again, and an unconscious Cassandra was thrown to the floor. He barked an obscenity at them (not that they'd have known it; old Pagan curses were his favorite) as he cradled her head in his hands. She really was much smaller than he, but the fire of her hair made too much of a contrast to her unusually pale skin.

"Are you even going to tell me what happened to her?"

"Dr. Verity is much pleased." With that, the door slammed and locked again.

"Cassandra? Miss Cillian? Please, Cassandra, can you hear me?" By now, Jenkins was nearing panic, oscillating between her formal and familiar names to try and rouse her. She moaned, but did not waken.

"Cassandra, who is Dr. Verity? Can you tell me anything? What did they do to you?"

Cassandra turned her head slightly toward his right hand and Jenkins gasped. Her veins burned blue fire, nearly matching the color of her eyes, now closed. There was only one thing that could make her skin glow from underneath in that way, and that was magic. He continued to stare at her face and neck, and finally found the source of the problem: a rapidly deteriorating puncture mark at the side of her throat. He nearly leapt from the floor with her in his arms and brought her to the cot. Slowly easing her down onto it, he laid her on her side, puncture wound facing him. He slid off his jacket, bunching it up to pillow under her head. She still would not wake up, but he used the chance to inspect the wound more carefully, dabbing at it with his handkerchief, made new with a little more water from the bottle. He looked down to his right side to realize another bottle of water had been deposited with her unconscious form; it had rolled with them over to the cot. He shook his head as he pondered the thought that while these people were mistreating Cassandra, they wanted her to stay hydrated. Kindly villains? Health-conscious fiends? It didn't seem fathomable. Still, he'd continue to treat her with the water they provided. He had little choice.

A tiny grunt came from the sleeping form on the cot, and Jenkins whispered to her:

"Miss Cillian? Can you hear me? Just nod, try not to talk."

She nodded, and Jenkins would be hard-pressed to deny the leap in his chest when he saw it. He eased her face toward him, and she murmured:

"Mad scientist on aisle two, Jenkins."

"What!?"

"The people upstairs," she whispered. "They're led by a super-happy crazy lady. But she injected me. Don't know what it was."

"That's alright, Miss Cillian. I'm sure we'll work out what it was. Can you describe your symptoms now. Or should we wait for you to feel a bit better?"

"I don't know. My head hurts again, but I can see you now." She was squinting in the light to look at him.

"Good. That's good. I'll see about some more water. They keep leaving bottles of water everytime they come to throw one of us back into the cell. At least you'll be hydrated."

"Thats on purpose I think."

"What do you mean?"

Dr. Not-so-stable said something one of the times I was conscious up there. She said I had to stay hydrated so the experiments would work. I just don't know what experiments she means."

"Well, I'm concocting some ideas of my own on getting us out. Just you wait." Jenkins wished his lies actually sounded in truth, but knew they fell as flat as his perfectly-folded pocket squares.

"Jenkins, I'm sorry to be such a bother. But I'm scared."

"I know, Cassandra, I know."

"They're testing me for magic, aren't they."

"I believe that they are. Judging from the way your skin is glowing, they've found a way to bring the magic in your blood to the surface of your veins. I wish I knew how they were doing this."

"My heart feels funny."

"How so?"

"Like it's beating out of my chest. My vision is blurry, and I can't seem to take a full breath. Jenkins, what's happening?"

"Cassandra, you're having a panic attack. Please, listen to the sound of my voice. I want you to take in a breath for 3 beats, and then breathe out for 4 beats. Can you do that? Here, I'll count for you."

Slowly, Jenkins brought Cassandra down from her attack. At some point, he had taken her hands in his own as she lay on the cot. Her breath finally slowed, and he checked a glowing pulse point to be sure her heart was beating more normally. Her eyes started to slowly close.

"Please don't leave me alone, Jenkins. Please?"

"I'm not going anywhere, Cassandra."

And so the gallant knight took his first overnight watch, sitting at the bedside of his red-headed lady, holding her pale hand.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

There seemed to be no hope. Jenkins could not devise a way out of the cell, and the henchmen continued to take Cassandra in and out, all the while her screaming and reappearing with new wounds. Sometimes they'd inject her with things, sometimes they would tear at bits of her skin and lay potions beneath. He felt helpless, and even though she continually tried to lighten the mood {when she was conscious}, he still could not get over the sound of her screams. In just these few days, his feelings toward her had become closer. She was a kind of ward, a responsibility, but now more than that. She was his friend.

"Just give her to me! Stop throwing her on the ground like some kind of rag doll! Do neither of you have a sympathetic bone in your overgrown bodies?!"

Jenkins picked Cassandra off the floor and put her on the cot, careful of her head and noticing the bloodstains up and down her legs. Before he could inspect them more closely, her eyes fluttered open and she spoke:

"I'm ready for McDonalds now."

"I don't think we have access to that kind of food, Cassandra."

"No, Jenkins, I'm a filet o fish…. get it?"

"What are you talking about?!"

"My legs. I'm surprised you couldn't hear the screaming from here. They flayed my legs in spots and put some kind of medicine on the open parts. Stung like you can't believe."

"This is unconscionable. Simply unbelievable. How could they do this to you?"

"I don't know, Jenkins." Cassandra's kidding nature was suddenly gone. "I only wish I knew why."

"What gives you the most pain?"

"Well, my legs hurt a lot, but the puncture wound on my neck from earlier in the week is throbbing. I don't know what that means."

"Well, if you will permit me, Miss Cillian, I'm going to make a request on your behalf."

He pulled himself up to his full 6 for 4 inch height, straightened his tie, and bellowed at the camera.

"We've been here for 4 days now. There is no end in sight. You feed us next to nothing, but keep giving us water. I now DEMAND that you give me the first aid kit and pain medication necessary to treat this young woman as she tries to heal from your little experiments. And I mean THIS INSTANT!"

He looked back at the cot, and Cassandra looked….almost afraid.

"I'm sorry, Cassandra, I didn't mean to frighten you. That particular bellow was for our captors, not you."

"Oh I know…. still…. impressive… Mister Knighted Bigshot."

She smiled and he almost smiled back at her.

Seemingly out of thin air, the cell door opened, and a pouch was slid in. The henchman was gone before they even got a look at him in the low light. Jenkins scrambled for what he left behind and immediately sought out any medication that might help Cassandra's pain. He found it in the form of Dilaudid, which surprised him, but he took no time to ponder why they would give her such a powerful drug. He simply snapped a tablet in half and handed it to her with one of their now copious bottles of water. Hydration was a thing for these bastards, as Mr. Stone might observe.

"Here, Cassandra, this will help. We'll give it at least 20 minutes to work, and then I'm going to try and treat your legs. How is your neck?"

"My neck hurts. What's the drug?"

"Dilaudid."

"Ooo! Fun times, comin right up!"

In the 20 minutes it took for the medication to work, Jenkins told Cassandra a few stories about the old days. He enjoyed watching her face and exclamations as he carried on a bit in his musings, hoping her pain would lessen.

"Well, Mr. Jenkins, there are about 4 of you now, so I'd say the med kicked in."

"Yes, Miss Cillian, let's get to work."

He was embarrassed for a moment, but quickly conjured the thought of comrades in battle as he shimmied her blood-stained tights off (her boots had been abandoned days ago). He nearly gasped at the sight of her pale skin quite literally torn apart methodically, once on each calf, once on each thigh. There was a kind of maniacal precision to it. He treated each wound with ointment and bandages. During the worst of it, she still cried out, and he found himself humming an old Celtic song he'd learned long ago. He even held her hand on occasion, in between treating leg wounds. She grasped back tightly, pressing her pale lips together, creating a barely discernible line in her already deathly pale face. Her eyes crinkled in pain.

"OK, Miss Cillian. I think I've done what I can here. Can you get some rest?"

"I'll try, Jenkins."

He sat again at her cot, finding himself humming again.

"Ah now, here's our girl! I'm so very excited to see you today, and I know we'll have lots of fun!"

"OK lady, whatever. Why are you doing all this? Why are you constantly putting things inside my skin? What do you think you're going to achieve?"

"Now now, Miss Cillian, it's no fun to spoil the surprise. After a few weeks of our concoctions, we will know the root of your magic, and there is no way around it! No one can even detect that this place exists! Our master has done wonderful things to be sure we can work undisturbed. So very exciting!"

"Can't you please tell me what you're looking for? Maybe I can help!" Cassandra tried to look upbeat, despite being restrained in what resembled a dentist's chair.

"No, no need to do a thing, Miss Cillian. You just keep being you! Today there will be no cutting, I promise. This is a mind experiment!"

Before Cassandra could say a word, a helmet was placed on her head, and images so horrible she could never conjure them herself played across her eyes. She was killing people, dismembering them. She stood before Jenkins, Stone, Ezekiel, Baird. She did horrible things to each of them. All these images continued to flash through her mind, and she began to scream. Suddenly, the image turned to her pushing a sword through Jenkins' gut. The look of sadness and abandonment in his eyes was nearly more horrifying than anything else she'd seen. Why would her brain choose him specifically?

"It's working! You, Denholm, whatever your name is, make sure the soundproofing is turned on. We don't want our unexpected knight-guest to hear her!"

"No, please, no, I'll do anything…. just don't…. NO NO NO NO!"

Jenkins awoke and turned to see Cassandra writhing on the bed in pure terror. Her eyes were open, but she could not see him. He took her by the shoulders and shook her lightly.

"It's ok, Cassandra. Cassandra, listen to my voice. You are not with them now. You're in the cell with me. You're safe with me. It's alright, it's alright."

She finally came out of her night terror and grasped Jenkins' arms.

"Sorry, Jenkins, I didn't mean to scare you."

"I'll say it until you believe it, Cassandra, but there is never a need to apologize."

"It was just so horrible. They weren't just experimenting on me, they were trying to hurt y— everyone. Colonel Baird and Ezekiel and Jake. It was just…."

She sobbed and couldn't believe how hard her chest shook as she cried out so much fear and distress. Jenkins assessed her leg wounds and took her into his arms, sitting with her on the cot while her bandaged legs dangled off the side. He rocked her against his chest and slowly rubbed one circle on her back. He was not one for physical contact with others, but to see this friend in such distress changed all of that. Again he hummed. The humming, the rocking, and the back rub eventually assuaged Cassandra to the point of sniffles, and then she stopped crying altogether.

"Jenkins," she muffled into his shirt, "thank you for taking care of me. You are a true friend."

"It's nothing, Cassandra."

"Jenkins, can I ask you to do something for me?" She seemed on the verge of tears again, and his heart hurt as he nodded.

"Stay with me on the cot tonight? Please? I know it's a lot to ask, but would you?"

Jenkins thought of his vow. He thought of Charlene. Then he thought of how Charlene would have punched his arm and given him hell for not helping Cassandra now. He also thought of his own need for comfort. In a split second, this all went through his head and he answered:

"Of course, Miss Cillian. A knight must always keep the monsters away. Slide over, we'll make this work."

Cassandra made Jenkins' coat into a longer pillow and slid all the way to the wall, her back to the cell. Jenkins laid his long form next to her, not sure what to do with his free arm. Her red hair was a bit dulled by days of not washing, but he could still pick up the slightest hint of citrus from her shampoo. He gulped and stroked her hair a few times, then laid his hand on her upper arm.

"Is this ok, Miss Cillian? Am I hurting you, Cassandra?"

"Not at all, sir. If it's more comfortable, you can put your arm on my waist."

And so the gallant knight took another watch, this time tucked close to she whom he protected, in body, mind, and heart.


End file.
